The trees they grow so high and the leaves they do grow green, And many a cold winter's night my love and I have seen. Of a cold winter's night, my love
ترجمة: سارة برايتمان. وتنمو أشجار عالية جدا.
as the sun was rising, I heard a maid singing in the valley below; -O don't deceive me, O do not leave me. How could you use a poor maiden so? O gay is
: The trees they grow so high and the leaves they do grow green, And many a cold winter's night my love and I have seen. Of a cold winter's night, my
how soon we should part. Still grows the bright sunshine o'er valley and mountain, Still warbles the blackbird his note from the tree; Still trembles
red and blue, I little thought what love can do. I leaned my back against some oak Thinking that he was a trusty tree; But first he bended, and then he broke, And so
: How sweet the answer Echo makes To music at night; When, rous'd by lute or horn, she wakes, And faw away, o'er lawns and lakes, Goes answering light
, My master's coffers empty, my pockets for to fill. When lolling in my charlot so great a man I'll be, So great a man, so great a man, so great a man
: Come you not from Newcastle? Come you not there away? O met you not my true love, Riding on a bonny bay? Why should not I love my love? Why should
lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them; Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed Where thy mates of the garden Lie senseless and dead. So
and the flowers. Quickly, lend me your shuttle; I am awaited elsewhere, you know. Here is the Spring passing by; -Good day, painter, good day Your labouring hand grows
: Lorsque j'etais jeunette, je gardais les moutons, Tirouli, Tiroula, Tirouli, Tiroulou. Tirouli, Tiroula, Tirouli, rouli, roule. N'etais jamais seulette
gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song! The warm lay of love and the light tone of gladness Have waken'd thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill; But so
That is so wide and deep, Saying -Little Sir William, if you are there, Oh pity your mother's weep. -How can I pity your weep, mother, And I so long in
: O can ye sew cushions and can ye sew sheets, And can ye sing ballulow when the bairn greets? And hie and baw, birdie, and hie and baw, lamb, And hee
: Quand j'etais chez mon pere, apprenti pastoureau, il m'a mis dans la lande, pour garder les troupiaux. Troupiaux, troupiaux, je n'en avais guere. Troupiaux
: Oliver Cromwell lay buried and dead, Hee-haw, buried and dead, There grew an old apple-tree over his head, Hee-haw, over his head. The apples were